The Italian Way
by dedkake
Summary: Germany takes Romano's first kiss, but Romano's in love with Spain! Spain/Romano, Germany/Veneziano.
1. Perfect Opportunity

Claiming these from the kink meme. Links in profile. Second written, first chronologically.

1. Perfect Opportunity

Romano glared down the table at his brother and that bastard Germany. They were getting a little too touchy feely for his taste, and he really didn't think he could let it go much longer. His brother seemed to be complaining about food, and how it was almost lunch time, but he was doing it pressed up against that bastard's side. And Germany wasn't pushing him away! Had the man no shame?

Glancing around, Romano saw that everyone was busy either listening to or ignoring America's speech about saving the whales with only a submarine and a team of football (or his sorry excuse for a game) players. It was a stupid plan, yet America had convinced everyone to debate it for the whole morning. But this was his opportunity.

Spain grabbed his arm as he stood up and gave him a questioning look, which Romano promptly ignored. Instead of sitting back down, like what he was sure Spain wanted him to do, Romano stalked around the table to where his brother and that German were sitting. No one even looked up from twiddling their thumbs or going over America's notes. Not even Germany had noticed—which meant he could use the element of surprise. Perfect.

Once he was close enough that he had approximately the right space between them for a fight, Romano shouted, "Oi, potato-bastard! Get off of my brother!"

Germany whirled around to face him, totally confused. Romano smirked as he continued forward, flexing his arm and clenching his fist. But then his foot caught on the back leg of Austria's chair and he went crashing forward. He went crashing forward _into Germany's lips_.

The impact hurt, the crush of teeth and lips and skull with most of his weight behind it, and he threw himself to the side as fast as he could. _Ew_. Just, ew. He had just kissed Germany. In front of the world. There was silence around them, save for loud, German cursing and Romano's own harsh breathing.

Romano jumped up as fast as he could and looked down at Germany again (trying to ignore his little brother's hands all over those broad shoulders). They stared at each other for a long moment, confused and angry. There was blood on Germany's lip, and Romano knew he himself wasn't bleeding and felt slightly more satisfied that he had caused Germany physical harm. But then the silence broke.

"Oooh!" France exclaimed. "I see our little Romano is making a move of _love_!"

A flush rose up Romano's cheeks at the comment and he glared over at France. "I'm fucking not!"

France smiled at him, warm and smooth, and said, "You're blushing like that was the first time you've ever kissed anyone."

Romano burned from embarrassment. It was true. But no one was supposed to know that. He was Italy, a country of passion—this would ruin his reputation. He sent a glance over to Spain, and rolled his eyes when he saw that he was merely watching with a small smile. He obviously was going to get no help there.

Prussia smirked at him from France's side. "We don't mind if you kiss him again. Only this time make it a _real_ kiss."

At this, Spain did speak, "But Prussia, he's a beginner; he doesn't know how!" Romano wanted to throw something at him.

Blushing, Romano growled and glanced back down at Germany, who was still staring up at him stupidly (and his little brother was _still_ touching him). "Dammit! I'm not kissing him!" he yelled, and to prove his point, he swung his fist back and punched Germany. Hard. Right above his jaw.

Germany fell out of his chair (closer to his little brother, dammit) and about fifteen other nations jumped to their feet. Veneziano glared up at him, wrapping an arm around Germany's chest. "Romano! Don't hit him!" he said, looking wounded himself. Romano almost felt bad. Almost.

"Too late for that, Italy," England said from his other side. Romano glared at him, but then redirected it toward Prussia when he moved forward.

"Holy shit, little Italy! You just decked _West_. That was _awesome_!" Prussia said, grinning from ear to ear. Romano wasn't quite sure how he could be excited about his little brother's pain, but they were German, so he brushed it off. "Oh no, he's getting up. Punch him again!"

When Romano looked down again, Germany wasn't even looking at him. He was instead, trying to calm down a nearly hyperventilating Veneziano. Romano ground his teeth together and tried to hold back his anger. He'd already caused a scene. But Germany, the bastard, was touching his brother and he just couldn't ignore it.

Grabbing the front of Germany's suit, Romano pulled him up. For one very satisfying moment he watched a look of horror pass over Germany's face before he punched him again. In the same spot.

"Whoa, there. Time out!" America yelled, taking hold of Romano's arms. Romano hadn't even noticed him move around. "Just because it's football season doesn't mean you can go around hitting everyone."

Romano tugged at his arms, but America's hold was firm. He glared at Germany one last time before turning to America. "Like I even care about your stupid American football," he growled. "Let me go."

America did let go, but he didn't move away. Romano saw him glance to England, who was now coming around to him as well. Fuck. Now he was in a corner. Glancing around at the room, he sought out Spain again, looking for any type of help or reassurance at all. But Spain was still sitting in his seat, that mysterious and _annoying_ smile still on his face. Romano turned back to Germany.

"You and I did not just kiss, okay?" he asked venomously.

Germany nodded, cradling his cheek. Romano couldn't even bring himself to smirk because everything was just too wrong about this whole thing. His first kiss was with a German, and Spain had just sat there and watched without doing a single thing. He was furious with everyone, including himself.

As soon as England reached out to grab his arm, Romano turned and stalked toward the door. No one would mind if he took an early lunch.

___

I'm feeling lazy right now, so it'll probably be a few days until a reformat the other two sections posted in the meme. Chapter two of this will be new (not from the meme), as will chapter five. I just have to get around to writing them.


	2. A Little Desperation

This is new material not posted on the kink_meme. Enjoy.

A Little Desperation

After Romano left the conference room, there had been a short arguing match between America and England over whether or not an early lunch was necessary. Spain was certain America had won that argument only because Germany looked like he was about to pass out, something that gave Spain a vague sense of pride in Romano's earlier actions. The result was that now, at eleven o'clock in the morning, Spain was squished next to Prussia and across from France in a small booth of an American fast food restaurant.

Looking down at his pathetic looking hamburger—nothing more than two thin buns around the world's smallest meat patty with its most colorless looking cheese, lettuce, and tomato—Spain pouted. Today had not been going particularly well for him, although he knew that it had been worse for others, and this burger was not helping in the matter, but at least it was a distraction. He peeled back the bun and poked at the white-ish tomato in distaste.

"Here," France said, handing Spain a small, red packet, "cover it in ketchup and you won't even notice the entire lack of quality."

Spain took the ketchup, but merely set it down next to his burger. "It's not the same. Fake tomato flavor just doesn't make up for this … thing," he said, gesturing at the limp vegetable on his food.

From next to him, Prussia scoffed. Shoving a chicken nugget into his mouth, he said, "I told you to order the nuggets; they're really delicious." He paused to take a long sip of his drink, giving Spain a serious look over while he did. "Either way, a poorly crafted burger is nothing to look so depressed about. Stop looking like someone just bulldozed your tomato field."

"Shut up, Prussia," Spain mumbled, leaning away from the table, away from his burger. Prussia looked mildly offended.

A laugh broke across the table from where France was watching them. "Come now, Spain, you should be proud of your little Romano. He's finally becoming a real man." France was smirking, idly raking his fork through his unsatisfactory salad.

For a moment Spain continued to glare at France, but then he deflated against his seat. Romano's little kiss with Germany this morning had been plaguing him since it had happened. He didn't quite know what to believe about Romano's intent, but he was quite sure of one thing: that it had been Romano's first kiss. Spain's heart clenched at the thought. Not only had he not been on the receiving end of such an unimaginable action, he hadn't even had a clear view to see how cute Romano's face had been! But that was beside the point. He cast a mournful glance at France. "You really think it's like that? That Romano was making a move on Germany?"

"If he was, he really should've worked harder. That was an extremely poor excuse for a kiss. I bet even my brother could tell that much," Prussia said, leaning back in his seat now that he had devoured all of his nuggets.

France sighed and set his fork down. "Courtship does not have to start out with sultry kisses, Prussia. Maybe Romano is just," he paused, and Spain's fingers clenched around his napkin in anticipation, "making himself known to Germany."

That was certainly not what Spain had wanted to hear. Ignoring Prussia's giggles next to him, Spain said, "But there must be a mistake. I know Romano and he wouldn't just give his first kiss away like that. Not in front of the whole world!"

Spain felt a little desperate. He wanted France to take back what he had said, wished that Prussia would stop his god-awful snickering. If everything could go back to the way it had been before this morning, the world could make sense again. Romano would be sweet and innocent and entirely his. But instead, Romano was turning into someone he didn't know, someone willing to sacrifice some dignity for the sake of… romance? It didn't make sense!

"Maybe you don't know him as well as you think you do anymore, Spain. It has been many years since he lived with you. And times have changed," France said, nudging his salad away from him. "We can't keep them forever."

Spain's breath caught in his throat. Obviously France thought this was about possession, and it was in a way, but it was also so much more. He couldn't just give Romano away to anyone, and he couldn't hold onto him either. He knew that. Still, Spain knew he could help Romano, keep him on the right path even if he couldn't have him. And something inside him just couldn't acknowledge Germany as the right path.

As if reading his mind, Prussia looked up from where he was spinning one of the loose buttons on his shirt and said, "Well, he's looking in the wrong place if he's looking at my little brother. West is so tightly wrapped around Northern Italy's little finger I'm not sure he even knows which way's up when they're not together. Your Italy's going to have a lot of ground to cover if that's his competition. Not that I think he'd take up his brother as a rival in love or anything. He's too smart to do that."

"Since when do you know so much about Romano?" Spain asked, trying not to sound jealous even as his envy of the German brothers rose to a new height. He braced his hands on the side of the table. He wanted to leave, to get away, to get to Romano.

Smirking, Prussia said, "I've got no reason to tell you the secret to my awesomeness."

"I'm going back to the hotel. I have to talk to him," Spain said, standing up as he did so. He couldn't even apologize when the action caused France's cup of water to spill. He _had _to get to Romano before everything was lost. He needed to make things right, to make him understand, to help him before he did something terrible. If all he could do was give good advice, then that's what he would do. At least it was something.

France raised an eyebrow. "He's probably out at lunch," he said, mopping up his water.

Spain considered this for a moment, but shook his head. "No," he said, positive he was right, "he's too picky of an eater when he's upset."

He turned to leave, but stopped when Prussia's fingers closed around his wrist. Looking down, he saw an odd mix of sympathy and encouragement in Prussia's eyes. They stared at each other for a long moment. Spain smiled finally as he realized that Prussia understood how he felt, understood that he wanted Romano more than anything in the world, wanted him more than France had thought. He felt his chest tighten with empathy as he wondered if Prussia had felt the same way about his younger brother, but shook off the thought. He needed to focus.

Prussia smirked. "There's a grocery store three doors down. They were advertising a sale on tomatoes in their front window," he said with a wink, letting go of Spain's wrist.

"Thank you," Spain said, pulling away toward the exit.

As he went through the store he tried to compose himself. He had to be normal, had to be cheerful, and he most definitely couldn't let Romano know what he was feeling. Spain smiled at the woman at the register, making sure to keep the grin on his face as he exited the establishment. If he could just keep it up, as he had throughout the entire ordeal earlier, Romano would never suspect anything.

The hotel was only a block away and their room was only on the second storey, but his journey back felt like it lasted forever, like there would be no time left in their lunch break at all by the time he got there. Even so, when he stood outside the door to their shared room—because someone had been silly enough to give them roommates for the conference—he couldn't bring himself to enter. He wanted to go right in like he would if they were at home, but that would be rude if Romano was sulking. So he knocked instead, grinning as much as he could.

It only took a few moments for the door to open, revealing a furious looking Romano. Spain could see the bruise that was forming on his lip, and he felt a surge of jealousy that was almost uncontainable well up inside him. "What do you want?" Romano asked coldly, leaving the door open only wide enough to peak out.

Swallowing and collecting himself one last time, Spain extended the bag in his hands. "Lunch, actually. I figured you'd be hungry locked up in here by yourself."

"Idiot," Romano mumbled, but Spain could see him blushing, "we have a kitchen. What makes you think I haven't eaten already?"

Spain smiled again, and this time it felt genuine. He was falling back into the role he had been playing for years. "We ate the last of our food for breakfast," he said concisely.

Romano cursed rather loudly, but it only made Spain want to hug him more. The door was thrown open as Romano snatched the bag from Spain's hands. "Get in," he said, already walking back toward the kitchen.

This could work. If only Spain could keep his jealousy under control, everything could return to how it had been before because Romano was still Romano. Spain smiled, following Romano further into their suite.

___

Sorry it took a while, but I ran into a writer's block. I'm still not entirely pleased with this (I wanted it to be a bit more humorous), but here it is nonetheless. Give me another couple days to finish writing and formatting the rest.


	3. The Italian Way

First chapter written for this fill (written on 8/21-ish).

3. The Italian Way

"How long have you been seeing Germany, Romano?" Spain asked, folding his hands on the tabletop and leaning forward.

Romano almost dropped the knife he had just grabbed off the counter to cut his tomato snack with. "What?" he yelled, turning around rather violently to look at Spain. "Why would you even suggest that that bastard and I are together?! And if you even mention earlier today…" he trailed off, hoping it was menacing.

A delighted grin spread across Spain's face. "Oh! So that really was your first kiss! How exciting!"

Ignoring the comment, Romano gathered up his knife and plate of tomatoes and sat down opposite Spain. The hotel room they had been given for this conference came with its own little kitchen area, something Romano loved to use whenever the conference took a break (which was quite often, considering that their host America kept getting distracted by his stupid upcoming Super Bowl). While the kitchen was a bonus Romano hadn't been expecting, the fact that everyone had to have roommates had almost destroyed his weak enthusiasm for the event. Now he had to put up with his little brother and Spain twenty-four hours a day (not that his brother was ever around). He continued to ignore Spain, growling for good measure as he cut into his first tomato.

Spain didn't seem to take the hint. "Did you like it?" The question was conspiratorial, as if Spain was asking for the biggest piece of gossip he could ever hope for. He probably was, but his tone soon returned to its previous joviality. "It didn't look like you were any good at it—although I doubt Germany would mind because he's in the same boat, I'm sure. Too uptight to do anything like kissing that well."

"Will you shut up about it already?" Romano asked, trying to keep the desperate quality of his voice hidden by his anger. He really did not want to talk about what had happened earlier that day. Fuck, it was only lunch time.

"Are you embarrassed? That's so cute!" Spain was nearly gushing now, a slight blush on his cheeks as he grinned and leaned back in his chair.

Again, Romano decided to ignore his roommate. He really, _really_ hoped that Spain would take the hint this time and_ shut up_.

Romano cursed under his breath as Spain started again. "You know, you could've asked me if you wanted help. I'm a fairly decent kisser, or so I've been told."

"Spain!" Romano yelled, slamming the knife down on the table, a blush rising on his cheeks. This conversation was really getting out of hand, but there was nothing he could do. Spain's eyes were closed in thought and Romano knew he couldn't make it stop now.

"But you know who's the best kisser? You'll never believe me." The Spaniard was leaning in again, this time to snatch a slice of tomato from the plate.

"Ugh!" Romano growled, picking up his knife again—anything to not think about this topic. "I don't want to know who you've kissed, Spain!"

"It's Prussia," Spain said, licking tomato juice off his fingers.

"Errgh!!"

"Really, it's true!" Spain said, misreading Romano's disgust as interest. "He's amazing, and he knows it, too. I'm sure I could get him to give you lessons—no strings attached, of course."

That was it. Romano could not let this conversation go any further. It was going to permanently scar his brain. And Spain didn't seem to understand at all. He'd have to be firm about this. "No," he said, straining for anything that resembled calm, "I don't want lessons from anyone on how to kiss. It's not really a skill I need—least ways, not with another _man_."

Spain sighed dejectedly and Romano almost thought he had quashed the topic, but then Spain was looking at him with a sad expression. He said, "Germany will be so disappointed."

Romano lost his calm, or at least what was left of it. "Dammit, Spain, there's nothing between Germany and me! _Nothing_."

"But the kiss—"

"It was an accident! It wasn't even a real kiss! He just happened to be there when I tripped and—ugh," he paused his rant to rub his hand across his face. "Now I'm thinking about it again. Thanks."

After a moment of blessed silence in which Romano stuffed two tomato slices into his mouth, Spain made a small, thoughtful noise in his throat. Romano took a deep breath and glanced upward, silently asking for help before Spain spoke again. "I bet Germany's already taking lessons from Prussia. Wouldn't it be funny if you started, too?"

"Spain! It would not be funny! It would be gross—and it would _never_ happen. Prussia's his brother why would—" Romano paused and hung his head over his plate of tomatoes, watching mournfully as Spain snagged another. "Now you've gotten me into this ridiculous conversation again," he mumbled, toying with a different slice between his fingers.

A hand came into his vision and patted his wrist softly and Romano looked up to find Spain's soft gaze. "Don't look like that," Spain said, running his thumb over the backs of Romano's fingers.

"It's your fault," Romano said after a moment. He was trying not to blush at the intimacy of the contact, a feat which required his gaze to be anywhere but on Spain. However, he couldn't look away.

Spain smiled again, this time keeping it soft and encouraging. "I bet Germany would be really happy if you started smiling sometimes," his voice betrayed none of the sadistic intentions Romano was sure had to be behind them for him to continue with that preposterous strain of thought.

But this was Spain, so maybe he really just didn't get it yet—maybe he still thought that that _kiss_, if anyone could ever call it that, from earlier was something Romano really wanted. He would have to take a new course to convince Spain that wasn't the case. "I won't smile for him, you idiot, because I don't like him!" It was very hard to keep his voice quiet when he thought of even tolerating the German. Errgh.

"You're not even going to give him a chance?" Spain seemed genuinely surprised, his hand (finally) falling away from Romano's as he sat back in his chair.

Romano tried not to consider the depths of Spain's density very often, but it was hard to do when it hit him in the face. "What? Of course not! I already like someone, anyway."

"And it's not Germany?" Spain asked, tapping his chin absently.

This time when Romano slammed his hand down on the table and made the knife clatter, Spain jumped. "No! How many times do I have to say it?!" Romano leaned forward and punctuated each of his next words with another slam. "I think Germany's a tricky bastard."

"…Is it Prussia?"

"Spain!" Romano nearly shrieked, both of his hands out on the table to support himself.

Spain looked up at him, a smirk quirking the corner of his mouth. "What? I wouldn't blame you—he really is an amazing kisser."

"For the last time," Romano said, and he very deeply hoped that it would be true, "I don't need Prussia's help with kissing! It's disgusting to even think about."

Not giving in even just a little bit, Spain asked, "Are you sure? I'm certain the person you like would enjoy it if you had more experience…" The suggestive edge of his tone as he trailed off made Romano's nose twitch in annoyance.

The fact that it was Spain, who had never even kissed him, sitting before him criticizing his kissing technique hurt. If it were anyone else, Romano was certain he would have left the room already. But it was Spain and he felt the need to defend his skill. He just couldn't let Spain believe he wasn't any good.

Glaring across the table and gathering his conviction, he said, "I'm a fine kisser! I'm _Italian_." It sounded more like a whine to his ears and he cursed silently.

Spain, ever oblivious, continued to stare at the table, lips pursed with the intensity of his thoughts. Romano considered punching him in the moment of silence, but Spain quickly looked up, still looking thoughtful. "I wouldn't be so sure," he paused again and Romano's fingers clenched into fists on the table. "That kiss with Germany wasn't the greatest display of skill at all. Granted it was your first…"

"I told you, it wasn't a real kiss," Romano said, slumping back in his chair with a sigh. This was getting old. "And anyway, I don't like him. I don't want to kiss him—I didn't earlier today, either, so don't even start."

A smile formed on Spain's lips. "Right. I still think you should talk to Prussia."

At the mention of Prussia, Romano jumped up from his seat, both hands back on the table. Obviously Spain couldn't take any hints at all and there was no way that Romano could see to shut him up about this whole German kissing ordeal. He would have to end this now. The Italian way.

Leaning down, Romano placed one hand on the side of Spain's face to tilt it up. His touch wasn't gentle, but he wasn't trying to hurt Spain either. He smirked triumphantly at Spain's confused look and pressed his lips to Spain's. His cheeks were burning and he wanted to pull away and brush the whole thing off, but at the same time he never ever wanted it to end because Spain wasn't pushing him away.

The moment he felt Spain's lips respond, he pulled back. It was all the confidence he needed. He smirked and said, "See? I'm fine at it."

"You kissed me," Spain said, staring confusedly up at Romano, mouth hanging slack.

Romano's smirk turned into a full out grin as he saw the blush creeping up into Spain's face. "And I so proved you wrong. You liked it, and I didn't have any contact with Prussia's lips _at all_." He couldn't help but feel relieved that he would never have to think of Prussia kissing anyone again.

Spain continued to stare up at him, clearly confused. "Lovino," he said slowly, "you just _kissed_ me."

Clearly Spain was never going to get over this somewhat annoying string of density, but Romano could do nothing more than roll his eyes and tune back his grin to a smirk again. "And you, Spain, just liked it."

"So did you."

Spain's words were simple and true and Romano felt no immediate need to deny them. "Of course I did," he said, "because I like..." he paused as he realized what he was saying, but he couldn't stop, "...you."

Frowning, Romano turned his face away, leaning back from the table. He needed to fix this because nothing like that was _ever_ supposed to leave his mouth. It was supposed to be his secret, one that he would definitely fight to keep safe. He was panicking slightly, trying to come up with the right insult to throw at Spain and he nearly jumped when Spain stood and placed a finger on his chin, turning his face up to look into his eyes.

"You're very sweet, Lovino," Spain said, and Romano blushed and tried to pull away. Spain's grip held firm, as did his soft smile. "And you're cute. Like a little tomato."

Spain kissed him again and this time everything was slow and purposeful. Romano was suddenly very conscious of how little experience he actually had because Spain was really good at this. He brought his hand up to Spain's shoulder, but he wasn't sure whether he wanted to push him away or pull him closer. He settled on kneading it softly, which Spain apparently took as a signal to back off, however slightly he did it. A quiet, questioning noise escaped Spain's throat as he inspected Romano's face.

There was a moment of tension in which Romano knew Spain was looking for some type of affirmation. He squeezed Spain's shoulder again and mumbled, "Idiot," under his breath, before sitting back into his chair.

The quiet (affectionate) insult eased all the tension in Spain's body and he, too, sat back in his chair. He was smirking again, and Romano wondered if he'd just made the wrong decision. "You should've told me sooner, you know," Spain said, sounding quite genuine. "You've made me go the whole day being jealous of those Germans."

Romano scoffed and grabbed another slice of tomato. "You didn't sound jealous to me. More like you _wanted_ me to be with them." He didn't bother to hold back the annoyance in his voice. Spain had just pulled him through maybe the most mentally scarring conversation of his life and he wasn't going to let him get away with it.

"Well, one must admit that they are attractive…" Spain said, smirking and raising an eyebrow suggestively.

Romano wondered for a moment if Spain really thought it was true and then, if he should be jealous. But really, he did not want to think about it anymore. "Just shut up about it, idiot."

Spain was ignoring him again, consumed by his current train of thought. "Do you think they'd be up for something like that?"

"Ew!" Romano yelled. "Stop it, right now! That's gross and I won't hear any more. I'll leave," he pushed his chair back from the table slightly as a threat, "I swear I will."

"Oh!" Spain exclaimed suddenly, face full of concern. Romano would have fallen over from the unexpected outburst if he hadn't already been sitting down. "I hope you'll come up with a nicer way to let Germany down then all this. I do think he's gotten his hopes up a bit from your encounter this morning."

Spain was onto that ridiculous thought again, and Romano felt a headache begin behind his eyes. Pushing himself up from the table to make himself more intimidating, Romano said, "If you don't stop talking about those stupid, potato-eating bastards, I won't—" he floundered for a second, "I won't ever kiss you again."

A loud gasp escaped Spain and he leaned across the table again. "That would be a tragedy, Lovino," he said, sounding serious. "You do need to improve—"

Romano took the opportunity to shut Spain up again and save his aching head. With his lips.

Spain didn't seem to mind.

___

Fun fact: this story was written entirely in dialogue first and then filled in later. Sorry I haven't gotten around to responding to reviews recently. Homework kills me.


	4. An Hour of Bliss

Third section written on the meme (but actually written before chapter 1)

4. An Hour of Bliss

Ludwig lay on the couch in silence, eyes closed as he enjoyed the cool, damp cloth across his forehead. After his row with Romano that morning, his head had started to pound awfully, much worse than the ache in his lip and cheek (which merely added to the pain). He didn't think he'd ever been more thankful for a lunch break in his life. Not only was he able to escape from the looks he'd been receiving, but he was also able to relax in the cool, dark room he'd been sharing with his brother during the conference without his brother actually being there. For an entire hour. Bliss.

There was a quiet shuffle of feet on carpet accompanied by the distinctly annoying crackle of plastic and Ludwig chanced a peak through his eyelids. Feliciano was moving to kneel next to the couch, a makeshift ice pack in hand. The older nation was being much quieter than normal and Ludwig closed his eyes again and relaxed back into the couch. He made a small, rough noise in his throat to acknowledge the other's presence, but nothing more.

"Ve~," Feliciano said, voice breathy and soft, "it looks much worse now. Are you sure it doesn't hurt?"

Ludwig flinched when he felt fingers brush over his cheek, not expecting the contact. But it felt good, cold from the ice and very gentle and he found himself turning his face into the touch as he relaxed. A blush rose on his cheeks and he glanced up at Feliciano when his fingers moved to trace his lips and gently prod the angry bruise there. Feliciano had been fussing over what he had described to Ludwig as the worst cut lip he'd ever seen since the incident earlier, but it was somewhat different now that they were alone.

Swallowing to make sure he could speak, Ludwig asked, "you brought the ice?" He wanted Feliciano's hands off his face because he didn't quite know how to react to them being there in the first place. After Ludwig's encounter with Romano, Feliciano hadn't acted any differently, but Ludwig felt awkward and tense. He was guilty of kissing another man now, and he felt it.

The bag of ice was placed on his cheek without a word and he flinched again. Ludwig bit back a moan of relief as he felt his swollen cheek begin to numb to the cold immediately. "Does that feel better?"

Ludwig grunted in response. He knew Feliciano was concerned, but he couldn't tell if it was just for his health or if he was also wondering about his brother. If there was any doubt to be had, Ludwig wanted to talk about it, but he couldn't quite make himself bring it up. It was too hard to talk about feelings, especially when he feared that Feliciano might think worse of him.

Reaching up, Ludwig placed his hand on top of Feliciano's on the icepack. "I can take it. Why don't you go out to lunch?" he asked, both wishing that Feliciano would go and hoping that he would stay.

"What? And leave you here all alone?" Feliciano asked, his tone light and musical. He shifted his grip on the icepack so he could wrap his forefinger and pinky around Ludwig's, effectively holding him there. Leaning in, he pressed a soft kiss to Ludwig's nose (which turned red with embarrassment almost instantly) and said, "No way."

They sat in silence for a few minutes. A few minutes in which Ludwig desperately wished he could fall asleep, but found that his heart was beating too fast and that his mind was too muddled with thoughts for anything close to sleep. He tried to keep his breathing even so as to convince Feliciano that he had succeeded in falling asleep, but he knew he wasn't doing a good job.

Everything felt hot, even with the damp cloth and the icepack, Ludwig felt like he was burning up. He shifted so that he was laying more on his back than his side and turned his head to face slightly away from Feliciano. He cleared his throat softly.

"I'm sorry, Feliciano," Ludwig said after a few minutes and cursed silently when he heard his voice crack. The fingers around his on the icepack twitched at the words and Ludwig opened his eyes to look up at Feliciano for his response.

Feliciano was looking down at him appearing altogether confused, concerned, and amused. Ludwig blushed again and quickly moved to explain himself. "I mean. I'm sorry that I—" he had to take another few breaths, "—that I kissed your brother. Earlier today, I mean. I really didn't mean to—" A finger from Feliciano's free hand pressed into his lips, successfully stopping his rambling.

"It's ok, Ludwig, I don't really mind," Feliciano said, smiling.

Ludwig frowned. He would certainly mind if Feliciano went around kissing people. Especially people like his brother—he stopped that mental image before it could go too far. "But," Ludwig started to protest, "He's your _brother_."

This time Feliciano actually laughed. Although it wasn't as loud as it usually would be, the noise still hit Ludwig's headache like a hammer and he closed his eyes again. "Ludwig," Feliciano said, amusement still in his voice, "I really don't know where you get off calling that a kiss."

"But—"

"Really. What we do is kissing. What you did earlier with Romano—that was more like he was trying to head-butt you with his teeth. Ve~ It looked really painful." His words were cheerful, but Ludwig could tell he was being serious at the same time.

Frowning up at Feliciano, Ludwig asked, "You really don't mind?"

After a short pause where Feliciano looked much more thoughtful than he had anytime recently, he asked, "did you think it was a kiss? Because then I might be upset. But it looked like an accident to me."

"It was!" Ludwig said, quick to defend himself. Feliciano's logic made sense, now that he had clarified it a little. "I didn't even know he was falling until—well..."

"Good," Feliciano said, smiling again, "because you told me that there's no kissing at meetings. So that couldn't have been a kiss."

Ludwig smiled. "Tell that to your brother."

Feliciano was frowning slightly. "I wonder how he's taking it," he said, eyes distant for a moment. "I think that was his first."

That was news to Ludwig. How could any of their fellow countries possibly have avoided being kissed? Especially the older ones. The older ones who lived in close proximity to _France_. "Really?" he asked, disbelieving.

"He nearly broke your jaw for that and it wasn't even your fault," Feliciano said, still looking concerned. "Would anyone you know ask for that kind of treatment?"

Again, the Italian's logic made sense. Ludwig pushed his head back into the couch, thinking over their conversation. He didn't jump this time when Feliciano's fingers began to float across his face, brushing into his hair. All of this was going to be ok. Feliciano wasn't mad at him, and his jaw really wasn't broken. When he recalled the look on Romano's face right before he'd punched him the first time, Ludwig even felt a smile tug at his half-numb lips.

Opening his eyes, Ludwig was about to comment on that thought, but he noticed that Feliciano was staring. At his lips. He was about to ask what was wrong, but then Feliciano was leaning in and there was a wet tongue licking across his chin and pulling his lower lip into Feliciano's warm mouth.

Immediately Ludwig pulled back and pushed himself up slightly, the cloth and ice falling away from his face. Feliciano's mouth followed after him, but didn't kiss him again. "Stop it!" he said, blushing up to his ears.

"Ve~! But it was bleeding again," Feliciano said, pouting slightly and sounding perfectly confused.

Ludwig could tell that he was telling the truth now that the icepack had fallen off. His cheek was starting to throb again and there was a sharp, hot sting in his lip—not to mention that he could see his blood smeared across Feliciano's lips as well. "Oh," he said, because it was all his mind could think to say. Feliciano looked too good that way for any other words. He felt his blush deepen, but he settled back into the couch, grabbing the front of Feliciano's shirt and pulling him down for another kiss.

When Feliciano pulled away again, panting softly from the kiss, Ludwig stared after him, eyes wide. "Where," he asked, trying to catch his breath, "where did you learn to do that thing with your tongue and, and—" he couldn't say anymore.

Feliciano grinned down at him. "I asked France the other day," he started, but paused at Ludwig's glare. "Don't worry, he didn't do anything. Anyway. I asked him if he knew anything about kissing and you know what he said?"

Ludwig really didn't want to know, but he raised his eyebrow as a prompt for Feliciano to continue anyway.

"He said I should talk to Prussia about it," Feliciano said, absently rubbing his hand over Ludwig's chest.

Choking on his breath, Ludwig asked, "What?"

With a slightly confused look down at Ludwig, Feliciano continued, "Strange, yeah? But I talked to him anyway. And he had a lot of good tips on kissing. You should ask him about it sometime. It was very interesting!"

Ludwig pulled his hand away from Feliciano's shirt to rub his temples. "I don't want to share things about my private life with my brother. And I sure as hell don't want to know who he's kissed."

There was a soft laugh above him and Ludwig looked up to find a bright smile very close to his face. "That's alright," Feliciano said, breath ghosting over Ludwig's face. Their lips were almost touching. "I'll just show you."

____

The next part should be the end. and it will be entirely new material. Here's a hint at it: _Prussia_.


	5. Faulty Logic

Final installment of this. New material not found on the meme. This takes place at the same conference as the other stories, but it's more like an epilogue. A really long one.

5. Faulty Logic

The door in front of him remained quiet and unmoving, even as he knocked for the third time. Romano couldn't decide whether he was angry enough to break down the door or embarrassed enough to run back to his own room crying. Instead, he decided to tap his foot impatiently and hide his face from all passersby—including the humans he didn't know who were staying at the hotel conference hotel. Romano growled softly, only keeping his yelling back out of courtesy for the lovely ladies that had just walked behind him, and raised his hand to knock again. Only Prussia would be rude enough to leave his guests outside.

"No one's going to answer that door, you know," a voice said softly, close to Romano's ear.

Romano screamed and jumped as close to the door as he could, peaking over his shoulder. It was Prussia, standing behind him with a smirk on his face, still dressed in his nice suit with his briefcase tucked under his arm. "Prussia! You bastard! Why aren't you in your room?!" Romano yelled accusingly, trying to cover up his fright. It was legitimate question anyway—they'd gotten out of their meeting an hour ago.

"Why aren't you in yours?" Prussia countered, pulling his cardkey out of his wallet.

"That's none of your business!" Romano crossed his arms over his chest, and leaned back against the door.

"I could say the same to you, but you're kind of making it my business by standing outside of my door and all," Prussia said, waving the cardkey distractedly at the door handle that was hidden behind Romano.

Romano jumped away from the door, blushing slightly, but still just as upset. The stupid bastard had left him sitting outside his room for at least five minutes. "Veneziano promised me you'd be in right now!"

"Well, I _am_ here. Right now." Prussia was smirking as he flipped the card over and over in a way that Romano could only assume meant he didn't know which side he was supposed to insert into the key slot.

Annoyed that it was taking so long for Prussia to get the door open, and maybe just a little embarrassed that there were still people walking up and down the hallway, Romano couldn't keep his mouth shut. "Shut up, you stupid bastard, and let me in!"

Prussia pushed the card in, but the door flashed red back at him. "Why are you even bothering me," he said distractedly, and then, "Goddammit! These stupid keys are definitely not awesome!"

No longer able to conceal his reasoning for showing up on Prussia's doorstep, Romano fumbled for words. It was true that Prussia was still being exceedingly stupid, but Romano was still somewhat intimidated by what he had decided to ask. He looked at a spot on the floor and said, "I-I, well, uhm, Spain… I have something to ask you."

"Hmmm," Prussia mumbled, and then finally got the door to unlock. He grinned at Romano and flung the door open. "I'll see what I can do."

"Bastard," Romano grumbled, but walked into the suite anyway. It was very clean, cleaner than his own suite, but that shouldn't be surprising since Germany was staying there. Still, the neatness didn't match Prussia at all—it only made him more annoying.

Prussia walked past him toward a door on the right side of the room. He waved offhandedly at the couch and said, "Just sit over there. I'm going to put my stuff in my room and change out of this ridiculous suit."

Romano sat on the edge of the couch. The room looked exactly like the one he was sharing with his brother and Spain, but it didn't feel comfortable. Maybe that was just because Romano had been stupid enough to come here in the first place. He still couldn't believe that he'd actually come to Prussia about this. But really, since the incidents with Germany and then Spain the other day, he found that he couldn't ignore Spain's advice anymore. At least not without making a fool of himself. But maybe he was just proving that by sitting here, waiting for Prussia.

"Now, what was it you wanted to see me about?" Prussia said, startling Romano again. He sat in a chair positioned to look at the couch and smiled, looking right into Romano's eyes.

This was impossible. Romano knew it was as he felt his face begin to burn with embarrassment even before addressing the issue. "Nothing. I'm leaving," he said, standing.

Leaning back in his chair with an exaggerated roll of his eyes, Prussia said, "Oh come on! You mentioned something about Spain, didn't you?"

Romano didn't respond more than shifting from foot to foot.

"He told me you guys kissed the other day and talked about love and shit. That's not nothing," Prussia said, and Romano couldn't tell if he looked amused or annoyed. Not that it mattered alongside that news.

"Dammit!" Romano yelled, stamping his foot and blushing up to his ears. Spain wasn't supposed to just _tell_ people about that! "I can't believe he would go around and and—"

He had to stop talking because Prussia was laughing. "You shut up!" He meant to yell that, but his voice came out too high and too hoarse for it to have been a yell. Wonderful.

After containing his laughter and failing entirely to hide his smirk, Prussia asked, "Well?"

Romano fell back down on the couch, this time leaning back into the corner as far as he could. He'd have to explain this now, or else Prussia would just go and ask Spain and then Spain would _know_. He growled and glanced at Prussia out of the corner of his eye. Better to get it over with quickly. "I know I should never believe a word he says but you know how that idiot gets sometimes when he's on to something and and Spain said you were the best kisser!"

Silence reigned for a moment and Romano wondered if maybe Prussia hadn't been paying attention. But then Prussia's brow creased and he asked, "Excuse me?"

"Bastard, don't make me say it again!" Romano said, pounding his fist into the armrest.

"Obviously I'm an awesome kisser, everyone knows it. But," Prussia paused here, leaning forward to look closely at Romano, "I really don't follow where you're going with this."

Sucking in a huge breath of air, Romano squeezed his eyes shut and said, "I- I want you to teach me how to kiss better!"

There was laughter filling his ears. Prussia was actually _laughing_ at him. He opened his eyes only to find Prussia's grinning face. "Seriously?!" Prussia asked, "I mean, I thought you and Spain were all hooked up and everything, but if you're up for it," he paused and Romano didn't want to know what he was thinking. "Get your cute little ass over here and we can start right now!" Prussia said, tapping his lips with his finger and waggling his eyebrows.

"Goddammit. I knew I shouldn't've come, you asshole! I'm leaving." Romano got up and started walking toward the door this time, fully intent on leaving because clearly Prussia was insane. Also disgusting, but mostly insane.

"Well that's rude!" Prussia said, and Romano turned back to look at him in time to see that he was pouting.

"You bastard! You're the rude one. Thinking I'd up and kiss _anyone_." Romano was astounded at Prussia's audacity, but couldn't help the blush rising on his face. Thinking about kissing Prussia and actually talking about it were completely different.

Prussia rolled his eyes, still all confidence and poise. He said, "Hey, you asked for my awesome skills and I was just aiming to fill that request."

"I never asked to fucking kiss you!" Romano yelled. And it was true. At least he thought it was true, had meant for it to be true. But the more he thought the more it seemed possible that he _had_ asked for it, which only angered him more.

"How else do you expect me to teach you anything, then?" Prussia asked. The look in his eye at was mocking, but he still somehow looked like he was inviting Romano back into the room.

Thoroughly annoyed, Romano turned back to fully face Prussia once again. "I don't know, tell me things!" He really had thought that both Spain and his brother meant that verbal lessons would be in order, not whatever it was that Prussia was planning right now. That was right! His brother had already been to Prussia about this matter. "Veneziano said—"

Prussia cut him off with a scoff. "Veneziano is totally off limits. I wouldn't kiss him even if he was begging for it," he paused, smirking at his own words, "Ok, maybe I would. But really, the whole part where he's with my _brother_—who would kill me if I tried anything—kind of puts a damper on the kissing thing."

Trying to ignore that it was _his_ brother they were talking about now, Romano focused instead on Prussia's apparently faulty logic. As far as he could tell, Spain and Prussia were good friends, much like brothers, even. "And the fact that you know I'm with Spain doesn't?"

"Nope!" Prussia said, grinning from ear to ear, "It's completely different!"

Romano wanted to punch something, but the armrest of the couch was out of reach and he was afraid that he might damage the wall if he tried anything else, although Prussia's face was becoming a more and more enticing subject. "Bastard," he mumbled, clenching and releasing his fists, "I'm not kissing you, so just tell me whatever the hell it was you told my brother."

Sighing and looking genuinely disheartened at Romano's words, Prussia leaned forward in his chair. Romano couldn't help but think that Prussia looked _disappointed_ in him. With another sad frown, Prussia said, "If that's how you're going to be, you could've at least brought Spain with you. That would make this so much easier."

"Hell no!" Romano yelled, the blush so hot on his face at the mere thought of Spain knowing about this visit that he thought he might get burned. "He's not going to know about this—"

Prussia started in his seat and held up a finger to shush Romano. "Hold on a sec—my pocket's vibrating," he said, pulling out his phone.

"Shit," Romano mumbled.

"Hey. Yes. Yes. Of course. …Really? I mean, if it's what you want, I'm up for it. That soon? Awesome. See you." Prussia's tone throughout the conversation was altogether amused and distant, like he was too excited to really pay attention.

"You'll never guess who that was," Prussia said as he flipped his phone closed and set it on the coffee table. There was a stupid looking grin on his face.

"No, I won't," Romano said, hoping that he could get out of this situation as quickly as possible.

Prussia bit his lip like he was trying not to give away the secret, but then said, "It was West."

Rolling his eyes, Romano asked, "What does this have to do with anything?" He was actually wondering why he was even still in the room.

"Well he and his Italy are on their way over," Prussia paused at this and Romano felt a little bit sick. "And they're looking for the same advice as you! I'm going to wait for them, if you don't mind."

Romano sure as hell did mind! "What the hell?!" he yelled, waving an arm out to his side, "I can't believe it! You're really going to—" he cut himself off as another thought dawned on him, "and you expect me to stick around?! He's your brother! And he's with my brother!!"

They held eye contact for a long moment. Prussia raised an eyebrow in question. "And?"

None of this made sense—Prussia didn't make sense. Wasn't he going back on what he'd said before about their brothers? Romano grumbled in annoyance. "And earlier you said you wouldn't do anything—"

"Doesn't matter if West wants it," Prussia said as if that were the most obvious answer in the world.

"Oh my god," Romano said, horrified. "I can't believe that idiot Spain was actually right! You _are_ teaching your brother about kissing! I can't do this. I'm leaving." And he really meant it this time.

Romano's hand was on the door handle as Prussia spoke again. "Your loss. Our brothers are totally hot when they're making out." The grin on Prussia's face was apparent even without looking back.

"Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut _up_! I don't need to know any of this!" Romano yelled and then swung the door open, only to find that his brother and that potato eating bastard were standing just outside the door.

"Romano!" Veneziano exclaimed, smiling a bit dazedly. "What are you doing here?"

"Ergh. Nothing," Romano said, but then corrected himself, "making a huge mistake."

Looking between his brother and Germany, Romano felt a new sense of dread fill his stomach, this time for the two of them. "Are you really going in there?"

Germany's face was red in an instant, and he frowned down at Romano, asking "Did he tell you what I said on the ph—"

"Stop, you stupid potato bastard!" Romano said, holding up his fist threateningly and loving the way that Germany immediately backed off. "I don't want to hear what you're going to say. I'm leaving."

As he walked away cursing Spain for even planting this idea in his brain—because clearly this was all Spain's fault—Romano heard his brother ask, "Ve~ What did you do to him, Prussia?"

"Nothing," Prussia said, and again Romano could almost hear his smile. "He's just intimidated by how awesome these lips are."

Romano turned around and stormed back to the room where Prussia was grinning in the doorway. He was not going to be humiliated like this again, definitely not in front of Germany and his brother. With no more warning that his arm pulling back, Romano punched Prussia right in his stupid smile and for once finding the grin on his own face as Prussia fell backward into his room.

____

Oh god, I'm so sorry this wasn't up when I said it would be. I'm a total fail for that, but I was really sick that weekend… and then I was hit in the face with papers and tests. Also, I wrote this without really editing it, so excuse the mistakes. I'll change them sometime if I notice any glaring ones. Sorry again. Thanks for reading!


End file.
